To Wander, Between the Stars
by Schildkroete
Summary: Jack never made that con in 1941. Instead his broken vortex manipulator strands him in the twenty-first century, where he finally meets the Doctor - who's been a prisoner of Torchwood for a long time.
1. Chapter 1

The first time Jack ever saw him he was saving the world. Given the circumstances the other man was in that was more than a little bit impressive.

-

He realised that he'd been cut off from his usual life for too long when he started to refer to himself as Jack Harkness even in his mind. He was thinking of himself as Jack Harkness. More and more he became Jack Harkness — not the man the name had belonged to so long ago (How could he? He'd never met him.) but the man he pretended to be: Jack Harkness, traveller, adventurer, charming and unusually open minded man from the twenty-first century.

He kept travelling the world, fighting boredom and claustrophobia. One world wasn't large enough for him to not feel trapped. How could it be? He _was_ trapped.

It wasn't just travelling. He was hunting; for aliens, for technology, for a chance to leave. In this century Earth was getting invaded all the time, and in nine out of ten cases humanity didn't even notice. The scanner of Jack's wrist device still worked for a limited range and so he used it to run from one crashed alien ship to the next space tourist, always hoping to find something that would help him fix his vortex manipulator, or at least offer him a lift off this planet.

He never found anything of use. Aliens got away before he could reach them, and the technology left by accidents or violence was too broken or too primitive to fix his complicated tool. It was frustrating: this century was full of important moments in history that he'd been in the area countless times while working for the agency, but somehow he had managed to get stranded in a decade that was entirely devoid of time agents.

Sometimes he was simply too late — he got to the place of a crash and found nothing, as if someone had been there before him and taken it all away. It wasn't that unlikely — this planet liked its aliens and had eccentric collectors, obsessed by extraterrestrial life and laughed at by the rest of humanity. But neither of them could have the technology to find all these promising pieces of alien origin before Jack could, and more often than once he had the feeling that someone was laughing at his expense.

So he began to search not only for the technology but also for the ones who stole it. At least he would have liked to. Truth was that he had no trail to follow. He always arrived too late to witness them taking anything, and they never left any trace.

He felt like he was chasing ghosts. Sometimes he wondered if this life that was forced on him made him lose his mind.

-

He became Jack Harkness but that didn't mean he liked Jack Harkness. It drove him crazy being confined in once place for so long, in this narrow minded, restricted, _boring_ age.

Over the years he had his share of lovers, even friends, but he fought with tooth and claws against getting used to this life. He didn't want it. He wanted to go back to the life he was used to.

It felt like his life was running away from him, the years he had passing by without a chance to fulfil their potential. There was an alien invasion in London one Christmas — he was in Spain. (Later he returned to look for the weapon that had destroyed the spaceship, never finding it.) The Christmas star one year later was destroyed and left nothing of use to him, and he never found out who had been responsible for the draining of the Thames. The Judoon had to take the bloody hospital up to the moon when they came, well out of his reach. There was UNIT but Jack never got along well with stable employment and pay-checks, and his attempt to get into their facilities and steal the alien technology they had scavenged didn't only fail pathetically but also told him that they didn't possess anything of use to him.

His adventures were smaller now. Nothing he saw, nothing he did could convince him that his life wasn't wasted here.

It wasn't that he was homesick (unless he counted the cosmos as his home). It was just that he had once had all of time and space at his mercy and now couldn't settle for anything less.

-

Jack Harkness, Captain: The name he had chosen for his con in London 1941, the name of a deceased war hero. Jack identified with the name now, but he was no hero. He was a con man.

Once he had wanted to be a hero. That's why he had joined the time agency. But the agency had no use for heroes. They needed men who could do what was necessary as opposed to men who did what was right. For that reason he had been accepted: Jack was such a man. He had learned that quickly enough, and let go of the person he wanted to be without even waving goodbye.

-

Maybe a part of him still wanted to be a hero. (The little boy that was eternally searching for his lost brother.) Maybe he had chosen that name for a reason other than because it was convenient.

Maybe that was why he told himself he targeted time agents for his cons out of vengeance because the agency had stolen his memories — as if losing a little money would hurt them. And as long as he didn't identify himself they didn't know he was acting out of vengeance anyway and the message was lost. He couldn't fool himself.

He was a con man because he wanted to make money the easy way, and because he liked feeling more clever than someone else. Time agents he targeted because the agency had money. There was nothing heroic or romantic about it. And had revenge really been the reason the redemption of that fact would have been negated by the fact that he had stolen other people's memories himself while working for them, over and over again.

The lady he had stolen his spaceship from had not been a time agent.

Stuck on Earth for years without adventures to distract himself with Jack had to face the fact that he was not a good person, and probably never had been. So it was probably just fair that the Chula space-junk he had wanted to drop in the Second World-War air raid of London exploded inside his spaceship before he could even get there. He'd managed to teleport away in the last second but some weird disturbance in time and space had thrown him to Cardiff in the year 2001, and killed his vortex manipulator. Since then he'd been stuck here, completely unable to appreciate the justice of his fate.

-

His travels started in Great Britain and since had led him to every corner in the world. Jack had looked for useful resources in New York, the Sahara, the tropical rain forest, Russia, China, Japan, in Australia and on Mauritius. Contrary to public belief in the United Kingdom alien invasions were not limited to their capital — Tôkyô got visitors other then Godzilla after all and most aliens preferred to park their spacecrafts in places that offered room and a chance that no one would stumble over them anyway. A desert for example — something of which England was frustratingly short of.

So Jack saw a lot more of his species' original planet than he had ever seen when he'd had the chance to go from one place to another in the blink of an eye. But it was in London that he finally got in contact with extraterrestrial technology of the highest standard, and standing in a hall beneath Canary Warf while outside another race of aliens threatened to destroy the planet he didn't know if he should laugh or take out his gun and shoot everyone in sight.

And it wasn't even Christmas.

-

The organization was called Torchwood. Jack had heard of them — they had left their traces on the internet, but nowhere else. His search had led nowhere for a long time.

Until he got the idea to check out the place that had been in the centre of the Dalek and Cyberman invasion one year before. Jack had missed the Daleks, a race he'd thought extinct, by being in Norway at that time, and for once he wasn't particularly sorry. At that time he'd had enough trouble hiding from metal men and trying not to be 'upgraded'.

The place had just been reopened, but Jack had soon found out that there was another secret level beneath the building that had been in use all the time. Getting into the secret facility shouldn't be too hard, with his skills and his experience as an agent.

Or so he'd thought.

In the end it probably only was the fact that he was friends with the leader of the organization that had kept him from being shot on the spot after he'd been caught.

"This is Torchwood Two," his old friend explained as he led Jack through the corridors, right after their initial altercation. The other liked violence, always had, and Jack was just too happy to deal out some after he discovered who it was that had stolen the alien technology from right under his nose for bloody _years_. "We moved in here after the first one was destroyed. Most of the underground rooms had remained intact, and our old place was getting a little crowded. I go by John Hart now, so make sure to call me that when my staff is around."

"And you're running this place." Jack still couldn't quite believe it. "How did that happen?"

"I got pulled here during a fucked up time jump and my vortex manipulator broke." Now, didn't that sound familiar? "That was eleven years ago. I got a job at Torchwood which wasn't hard with my experience in the field and quickly made my way through the ranks."

As far as Jack could tell that meant he had either slept with a lot of people or killed a lot of people. With 'John' both was equally likely, and he suppressed a shudder at the thought of his former partner in charge of an organization as powerful as Torchwood seemed to be. He liked him well enough, was quite happy at the prospect of finally bedding someone with a little creativity again, but he wouldn't ever be stupid enough to turn his back to him if he had something the other wanted.

That back was suddenly being pressed against the wall with a strength that wasn't betrayed by John's slight stature. The kiss was hard and passionate and Jack melted into it for a long moment. (It felt like coming home.) A sense of deja-vu washed over him — for a second he was standing in a corridor in the agency's HQ, or even in some rainy alley during a mission when they really didn't have time for this. John was a piece of the life he wanted to return to and finding him seemed to bring Jack a little closer to getting there.

"With all this alien and future stuff stored here you must have found a way to fix your VM, right?" he gasped out once he'd managed to break away from the kiss. His heart sank when John snorted in response.

"I wish. The stuff we have here isn't _that_ advanced, and there wasn't much left of my VM in the first place. We might be able to put some of the pieces together to get into space at least, but time travel is a bit out of the question. Our authority when it comes to that matter says there's no way to build a time machine out of the stuff we've got here." He grimaced, for a second lost in his own thoughts

"Well, space travel is still better than being stuck on this planet," Jack tried to cover his disappointment. "How far a range do you manage?"

"None at all."

"What? But you said…"

"I said we _might_. We have the pieces, but not the knowledge we'd need to put them together in a way that works."

Jack thought about that while John attacked his mouth again. The fact that they were from the future didn't give them much of an advance on the natives of this time, as neither of them had known much about how exactly their technology worked. It had been enough _that_ it worked.

Once.

"There is an invasion going on out there," he reminded John when his hand started feel for a way under Jack's clothes. He didn't really mind, but now seemed to be hardly the right time for this.

"I know," John assured him. "Our best expert is working on it." He stepped back none the less.

"Your best expert, huh? And that's not you?" They resumed their walk and soon reached a part of the complex that was less deserted.

It was the alien threat that had called Jack to the city, and the fact that all of humanity was at stake. He knew for a fact that humanity had not been destroyed at this time, so someone had to save it if they wanted to stop history from being rewritten in a most unpleasant way. And Jack had been wondering who that hero would be because it definitely would not be him.

They had left the soldiers that had caught Jack behind to keep guarding the entrance and made their way through long, dark corridors that contained nothing but pipes and wet spots on the wall, causing Jack to make a few sarcastic remarks about the use of their finances. The halls they reached now seemed to belong to a different world: clean, white walls, a lot of glass, equipment of the highest standard. People were running around in a hurry, looking busy and slightly anxious. Many of them were wearing white coats.

"Since you're the boss here, shouldn't you be at the centre of events?" Jack suggested, quietly so no one would overhear.

"That's were we're going. But thank you for telling me how to do my job. I'm touched by your concern."

"And I'm touched you deserted your work just to pick me up," Jack answered dryly. The exchange would have led to another physical fight had they had the time for it. Their relationship had worked like that — they never avoided arguments because those always ended with hot, aggressive sex. Jack wondered how long it would take them to kill each other if the sexual element was taken away.

A large double door led them to the command centre. Monitors and control consoles everywhere, and a number of armed guards watching the exits. They only spared their leader a brief nod as he stepped inside. Everyone's eyes were on one man leaning over the large table in the middle of the room. He didn't look up when they stepped closer, didn't acknowledge their presence in any way. Instead his attention was fully focused on a number of documents spread on the table in front of him.

"Any success yet?" John asked, and Jack nearly flinched at the sudden coldness of his voice. The man didn't react at all. To Jack's surprise John didn't bother him further, just stood back and watched him intently. The stranger's utter stillness gave Jack the opportunity to take in his appearance.

Unlike most people here he wasn't wearing a military or scientific uniform but a plain, large, light grey shirt and loose trousers of the same colour. On his feet he was wearing soft, clean shoes by the look of them not meant to be worn outside. His hair was brown, thick and looked ruffled, of his eyes Jack could only make out the long lashes from this angle. He was also very thin. Although the length of his clothes was alright they looked three sizes too big, hanging off his bony frame. Jack estimated that he couldn't have much more than half of his weight while being as tall as he was. Along with his pale skin and the weird clothes it made him look frail and no very healthy.

Both of them jumped when suddenly the man sprang to life.

"Alright, this is going to work!" he exclaimed. Turned to the console beside him and flicked a few switches, adjusted some settings. "This goes here, and this…" After a seconds hesitation he pulled away the covering and tore out a few wires, connecting them in different places. No one made a move to stop him. After that he had another glance at the documents. "That has been done, this as well. These calculations need to be put into the main computer," he said and handed over the sheet to a young woman who hurried off with them. "I'm not going to touch the last one," he added with a frown before crumbling one of the papers and throwing it away.

"What do you think you're doing?" John said harshly, picking it up and shoving it in front of the man. "That's important! The fate of the Earth…"

"Has nothing whatsoever to do with this," the man finished. "This is you trying to have me figure out the calibrations of the Kryk-weapon for you. Nice try." Before anyone could say another word he pressed a button on the console and the large screen above him came to life. It showed the inside of one of the three giant spaceships hanging over London, Jack suspected, and the furry face and long teeth of an alien that seemed more than a little surprised at the com system activating itself.

The skinny guy waved up at the screen and greeted the alien with a cheerful grin. At least Jack thought he greeted them. Actually he could also have told them a joke — it was impossible to tell because he didn't understand a word.

The alien answered in the same language.

"You know the rules," John interrupted the conversation by addressing the man in the grey outfit, completely ignoring the enemy on the screen. "Speak English so we can understand what you are saying!"

The annoyed look he got in response was completely lacking respect for his authority.

"They don't speak English," he was told. "And since I'm trying to make them see reason, not you, it would be rather stupid to have you understand me but not them."

"I don't believe they can't understand us. It would be irrational to start an invasion without being able to communicate with the locals," a female scientist said from the background. She shut up when the man glared at her.

"They didn't come to talk," she was reminded. "Not everyone in the universe speaks your primitive language." He turned back to the screen and resumed his conversation with the invading alien, who'd grown impatient over the interruptions. John looked like he wanted to interrupt once again but a quiet voice held him back.

"If you excuse me, Sir, I don't think there is any risk of them conspiring against us," a handsome young man said just loud enough for Jack to make out the words. "We will run the record though the translation programs later. He knows that." John grunted in response but kept quiet, and Jack wondered, not for the first time, who this skinny guy was and why they let him work freely when they so obviously didn't trust him.

The incomprehensible discussion got more heated while they watched, and at some point the alien on the screen shook his head several times, making sharp gestures with his right hand. The human he was talking to suddenly grew very serious. He said something that sounded like a warning, and flicked another switch on his console. On the screen they could see something on that ship exploding in a rain of sparks.

The alien shouted at the human. The human answered, calmly but with a threatening edge. It bothered Jack that he couldn't understand what was being said when it was clearly deciding the fate of the world he was standing on.

Then the screen went back. For a moment the room went very, very quiet.

"They're leaving," a voice cut though the silence. "All three ships are leaving the atmosphere."

Everyone cheered at that, though it sounded strangely subdued. The man in front of the screen relaxed a little and only now did Jack notice how tense he had been. Suddenly he looked very tired.

He turned to look at them when John approached him with long steps. Fell to the floor without a sound when a fist connected with his cheek. The attack came as a shock even to Jack, who was well used to his friend's violent tendencies.

The treatment seemed a bit harsh toward someone who had just saved the world.

"Now, let's talk about this!" John said, picking up the crumbled piece of paper once again and flattening it. Jack caught a glimpse of it and saw numbers and equations far beyond his understanding.

The man just looked at him while two of the guards picked him up off the floor.

"You know I'm not going to do it," he eventually said. Finally getting a good look at his face Jack could see that it was narrow, fine boned, his cheeks hollow. The man's eyes were dark and unusually large. Now the tension was gone from his body he looked even more frail and sick than before.

"You should have learned better by now," John growled darkly. "A pathetic little calculation. It's not worth the consequences of disobedience."

"It is. You're asking me to give you a weapon that could blow up worlds. I can't imagine any use of that I would approve of."

"We need it protect the Earth."

The guy snorted, so John added: "We're not going to blow up _this _world, so what's it to you?" He got no answer. The other's refusal didn't require words.

"Well, have it your way. We'll see how long it takes for you to come to your senses. I'd say… five, for the beginning. Unless you changed your mind…?"

"I can take five," the thin man said tensely.

"Okay, ten, then." Jack could tell from the smile on John's face that he wasn't entirely unhappy about the way things were developing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.

The other said nothing in response. He also didn't change his mind.

John watched him quizzically for a moment.

"Make it fifteen," he eventually decided. "I'll also ask to guys from level three to stay a little longer." He gestured to the guards that were still holding the other man. "Take him back to his room."

The stranger didn't resist when one of the guards took out a pair of handcuffs and placed them around his impossibly thin wrists. The sleeves of his shirt slipped back and Jack got a brief glimpse of raw and bruised skin before the man was led away.

"He's your prisoner," he realised.

"You didn't notice?" John was looking after the guards, not at Jack.

"You let him save the world."

"He has his uses."

"He _saved the world_," Jack repeated.

A frown of irritation appeared on John's face. "You have a problem with that?"

"Why is he your prisoner?" Jack wanted to know.

"Because he's an enemy of Torchwood. A danger to all of humanity."

"Uhm…" Jack felt like he was missing something.

"I'll have to take care of him for a while," John said, suddenly radiating a professional authority that didn't suit him. "One of my staff will show you around. I'll meet you later."

"I'd rather come with you," Jack protested. He wanted to know what exactly was going on with that man and what John was up to. Most of all, he wanted to talk to his old friend about a number of things, all connected to the general wish to get away from here.

"You can't," John told him. "Not yet. I might need you later." He waved the handsome young man who had whispered into his ear earlier over and instructed him to take care of his friend. Then he swiftly left through the same exit the guards and their prisoner had taken. The automatic door closed soundlessly behind him.

-

The vague feeling of unease that had crept into Jack during the conversation between John and his prisoner refused to leave him throughout the short guided tour through the facility. Meeting his old friend again, this part of the real word, and having him in a position that allowed access to all sorts of resources he had felt almost euphoric for a moment, like he was only one step away from getting home. Now he wasn't so sure anymore, and this feeling wasn't caused only by John's claim that none of the technology they had here was of any use to them. Something felt wrong about the entire situation and the part his former partner played in it. Surreal. Unsettling.

Now 'John Hart' was his biggest chance of getting away from here, and Jack found that he trusted him less than ever.

"So…" The young man who had introduced himself as Ianto Jones, research department, hesitated for a second, clearly unsure if he should continue. "You are a friend of the General, then?"

Jack, lost in thought, needed a second before he understood that the 'General' referred to John. It was almost too ridiculous.

On any other day he would have laughed.

"We have a history," he answered.

"How do you know each other?" Jones asked in his Welsh accent Jack thought was rather sexy. "If it's okay to ask," he added hastily. Jack gave him a half smile — this man's awkward politeness was quite cute.

"We worked together. It's been a while, though."

Jones had led him through the halls, given him explanations like a tourist guide but Jack had noticed that there were a lot of areas they had left out. Now they were sitting in a large kitchen that had a number of tables but was currently deserted.

"The man that talked to the alien invaders," Jack changed the topic. "Who is he?"

"The Doctor?" Jones sounded surprised, as if he'd expected Jack to know. "He's a prisoner here. He's usually locked up — unless they need him for something."

"What did he do? John… The General said he was dangerous."

The other looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him.

"He's the reason Torchwood was created: To protect the British Empire from beings like him. I don't think there was an actual reason for them to… arrest him, apart from the fact that the opportunity presented itself. I can't say for sure, though. He's been here since before I joined the organization."

"Has been your prisoner for a while then," Jack mused. Jones nodded.

"Forty years, about."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"He doesn't look forty," he said, though it was hard to tell from memory. In his mind he saw someone who could have been any age between twelve and eighty.

"No — he's been here for forty years." The Welshman stood and walked over to the coffee machine. "You want a cup?"

"Torchwood is arresting toddlers?" Jack still tried to keep up with the conversation.

"He's an alien," Jones told him, and added one second later: "Torchwood was founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria."

"Ah." Now, this actually made sense for a change. Aliens didn't always have to look… alien. Jack knew that.

They were more fun when they had tentacles though…

"An old alien then," he concluded.

"A time traveller," Jones informed him. "I don't know is exact age."

Jack hardly registered the second sentence. A time traveller! Suddenly his hope was back: this man travelled in time and he was obviously a genius. Suddenly _he_ had become Jack's best chance of getting away from here. If he could somehow make him fix his vortex manipulator… It wouldn't hurt anyone, so there would be no reason for that guy to protest, with his morals that seemed so very strange for a dangerous criminal…

"What did they talk about before they took him away?" Jack wanted to know. "What did 'fifteen' mean? Fifteen what?"

Jones looked uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I never get to see him unless he's allowed in the main area. I don't know what they are doing to him in his cell or the laboratories."

"You don't seem to approve though," Jack observed.

Jones busied himself with the coffee maker.

"Explain this to me," Jack asked, after accepting that he wouldn't get an answer. "He's a criminal but he's saving the world. He's a danger to the planet but he's been kept alive for forty years. Why not just execute him? It would be much easier."

The younger man came back to the table with two cups of coffee in his hands.

"I suppose they're afraid that the world will end if he's no longer there to save it," he eventually said.

"That's not making a lot of sense." Jack took the cup that was offered to him. "What exactly is so dangerous about him that they need to lock him up for four decades?" The number of years was only slowly beginning to sink into his consciousness. It was just about as long as he'd been alive.

Jones shrugged, but Jack saw him glance around to see if they were still alone before he answered:

"He can save the world with a snap of his fingers. He could just as well destroy it."

"You mean they're just paranoid?"

The other didn't say anything but his expression was answer enough.

For a while neither of them spoke. Jack tried to coffee — it was wonderful. His thoughts, however, kept wandering back to that impossibly skinny alien. The Doctor. (Now, where had he heard that before?)

He could be very handsome if he had a little more meat between his skin and his bones, Jack mused. Maybe that was why he had been fascinated by him the very first moment he had seen him.

That impression had been more likely been created by the attention everyone had focused on him, though, or by the fact that he seemed so frail, so doomed. Jack had always had a weakness for things facing their end.

"He didn't look very well," he recalled.

"He was fine," Jones assured him, but Jack noticed that he didn't use present tense here. "This was a good day for him. No testing, no drugs."

"I thought you didn't know what they do to him," Jack said, glad that this man seemed willing to trust him and trying to hide that fact that the prisoner's suffering didn't interest him half as much as the fact that he could travel through time.

"I don't, exactly. But my wife is working with the medical staff. You could say she's his personal nurse. She doesn't see what they do as well but she sees the effects it has on him."

He was married then. And seemed like the kind of man who didn't do open relationships. A pity, really. But Jack had not come here looking for a shag.

"You don't think he deserves this?"

For the first time Jones was looking him straight in the eyes. "I never got the chance to get to know him very well," he said. "But I know for sure that he's not a bad person."

-

"He's a psychopathic killer," the guard that was having his meal on the other table said. "Downright bastard, that one. I don't know what he'd do if we weren't watching him but it wouldn't be good, believe me."

"How do you know?" Jack asked. Ten minutes ago young Welshman had returned to his work and he'd been left waiting for John alone until the large, bald man came in for a snack.

"Just one week ago he killed Doctor Meyer. The guard that was with them must have looked away for a second and that asshole somehow got his gun and shot him, and the Doc as well. She'd never done him any harm! And there was no point to it either — he knew he could never get out of the building. He didn't even get out of the room, because the General managed to take him down a second later. He murdered them simply because he could."

"I see," said Jack.

-

"He's a time traveller, that's right," John said an hour later, when they were on their way to his office. "Torchwood Two caught him in 1969, just after it had been re-founded. But his time machine has been lost. Apparently Torchwood had hold of it once, before I got here, but now there is no trace of it. And he's not helping anyone, that selfish bastard. Don't get your hopes up."

"Mr Jones seems to think he's not a bad guy," Jack said vaguely. John snorted.

"Ah, dear Ianto. He has a strange affection for the Doctor, out of some misguided gratitude. I don't want my people sympathising with my prisoners and would have him removed, but he makes damn good coffee, don't you think? Besides, he's nice to look at. As is his wife."

"And she also likes the Doctor?"

"For the same reasons. On the other hand it's quite good to have someone care for him who might not kill him the moment I turn my back. Some days he's really not very popular with the guards."

"One of them told me about Doctor Meyer."

"Ah, that. Nice old lady. A shame, really." The words sounded mocking, coming from John. "I'm having her replaced. A doctor from Torchwood Three is taking her place."

"How many Torchwoods are there?"

"Four. Well, three now, with the first gone. Also, there are a lot of people working for us without knowing it. You remember Professor Richard Lazarus?"

The name sounded familiar.

"The scientist who jumped to his death last month? The tabloids said he turned into a monster just before that."

"For once the tabloids were right. Here we are."

They had reached the office, a large, bright room that lacked any personal touch.

"Who exactly is he? What's his name?"

"Just 'the Doctor'. In forty years no one could make him reveal his real name, and believe me, they've tried. _I_ have tried." Jack grimaced, knowing his friend's less than subtle way of asking. Poor guy, evil or not.

"What species?"

John grinned, suddenly looking like an exited little boy.

"He's a Time Lord!" he revealed. "And you have no idea how long I wanted to say this to someone who actually understands what it means."

Jack just stared.

"You're kidding!"

"No. Telling the truth, me."

"The Time Lords are a myth. They don't exist."

"At least one does."

Jack was silent for a long moment.

"What are you doing with him?"

"The question is: What can he do for us?" John, sitting on his desk, suddenly leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Jack's. "I want to go home! You want to go home. He says he can't help me but I don't believe him. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

Jack's heart was pounding and he couldn't tell if it was the prospect of going home that caused this or John's request.

"If you couldn't make him talk then I certainly won't," he pointed out. Technically Jack had always been the better interrogator because he focused on getting answers to his questions while John enjoyed the torture leading there a little too much, but the results spoke in John's favour.

John shook his head.

"He doesn't like me. You, he doesn't know. Maybe you can win his trust."

Jack wasn't sure about this but it couldn't hurt to try.

"When can I see him?"

John smirked.

"As soon as he's regained consciousness," he promised.

-

The Doctor's room was guarded by two armed men. John opened the heavily secured door for Jack but stayed out of sight when he stepped inside. The guards also remained outside. The door fell shut and five locks clicked into place. It seemed a bit exaggerated in the face of a man who couldn't even stand on his own right now.

The room was larger than Jack had expected but it contained nothing but a narrow bed, a chair for visitors to sit on and a sink. No toilet — John had already explained that the Doctor didn't need one.

The Time Lord, if truly he was one, was sitting on his bed, his long legs drawn to his chest without looking protective. His hands were chained to the wall above his head — they really didn't give him any chance.

He regarded Jack with calm, resigned eyes as he sat down on the chair. His face was even paler than before but there was no way of telling what had been done to him in the hours since Jack had last seen him. John had only smiled when Jack had asked him, and said they weren't done yet.

"Hi," Jack said with the biggest smile he could summon. "I'm Jack. We've met before."

The Doctor said nothing.

"Listen," Jack's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm here to help you." This time he got a reaction: a quiet, hoarse laugh.

"I bet," the Doctor said, his voice sounding completely unlike that of the man who had saved the Earth this morning.

He wouldn't trust him. Jack had expected that.

"I am, though," he claimed. "I admit that I'm getting something out of it myself, but you would profit from it as well, I promise. I'm a time traveller," he continued without giving the alien a chance to answer. "My vortex manipulator broke, and I've been stuck here for years."

He showed the device to the Doctor. "It's not badly broken but I can't fix it. I guess _you _could."

The alien looked at this little, important piece of future technology though tired, bruised looking eyes — he wouldn't be able to see the damage from where he was sitting.

"Even if I could, why should I help you? You're with Torchwood. You wouldn't do anything good with it."

"I'm not _with_ anyone," Jack protested, secretly surprised to discover that the contempt in his voice wasn't for show. "I just want to go home and never come here again. Help me and I'll get you out of here! I promise!"

"That technology wouldn't work in here, it's blocked," the Doctor sighed. "You can't get me out. I wouldn't advice you to try. Other's have, over the years. No." He shook his head, his eyes closed. "They'd kill you."

"No, they wouldn't," Jack said firmly. "Because they wouldn't even know why they should. First thing I'd do was travel back to 1969 and keep you from getting captured in the first place. You'd never even be here. That would be forty years I'm sure you wouldn't miss."

When the Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him Jack saw betrayal and disappointment in his gaze, and he realised that the Time Lord had, for one moment, been willing to trust him.

Jack also discovered that somehow, despite the life he'd lived, he was still able to feel shame.

The Time Lord's voice was even quieter than before.

"I was with a friend when I was taken by Torchwood. She's from this time but without me she was stuck in the past without a chance to get back. If she's still alive she's an old woman now. A brilliant girl she was, and I took her life from her, the life she should have lived. If I got out of here I still wouldn't go back and pick her up then, no matter how much I wanted to. Because it doesn't wok that way." He sighed. "She's out there somewhere. It's set. Can't be changed once it happened. And you know that." He looked at the wrist device, briefly. "That thing belongs to a time agent. Like the one John Hart has stored somewhere. How stupid, exactly, do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're stupid," Jack said. "But I'm desperate. Forgive me. I still promise I'll help you. I'll get you of here the one way it's possible." He left the chair, sat beside the prisoner on the bed. Opened the often-broken covering of his device and showed it to the other again, letting him have a closer look.

"Please," he said, making his voice sound urgent. "I need to know if you can fix that. As soon as possible — I could bring you any tool you need, but it should happen today, for your sake." As he leaned closer the Doctor shifted his weight, trying to make it look like he wasn't moving away from him. Jack didn't allow himself to think about what he was doing.

Apart from his face and hands every part of the man's body was covered. Impossible to tell what was hidden beneath those clothes, but Jack could guess. The Doctor was pretty, in a frail, vulnerable way, and knowing John Hart Jack had no doubt that he'd been the victim of sexual abuse. Now the question was if John was the only one — he had never had a problem with sharing.

Maybe that was what he had meant when he'd said he'd ask the guys from level three to stay longer tonight. Jack suppressed a shudder. Signs of sympathy wouldn't help here. Instead he lifted his hand and gently touched the Time Lord's cheek, finding his answer in the way he felt him tremble ever so slightly, in the vague fear in his eyes. But he didn't flinch, didn't move or speak at all and Jack couldn't help admiring him a little as he desperately pretended not to be broken.

That didn't stop him from leaning even closer and breathing his words into the Doctor's face.

"They are coming for you tonight. John said he wasn't finished with you yet and you know what that means, don't you? You need to help me so I can get you out of here before they come."

"And how would you do that?" Jack felt the movement of the Doctor's jaw under his palm.

"I'll kill you," he promised. "Before they get here. No one will hut you ever again."

Something flickered in the other's eyes and Jack couldn't tell if it was surprise or amusement.

"What makes you think I want to die?"

Jack finally withdrew his hand from the alien's face. "It's the only way for you to escape. You know it's true. There's no way to get out of here — they'll keep you locked in forever, generation after generation, to torture and abuse. Please, let me spare you that. It's the only freedom you'll ever get."

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't want to die. Not here, not like this. I have never wanted to live this much!"

Jack didn't know why his words were like a punch in the face.

"Why? Why do this to yourself?"

For a moment the Doctor looked though him, and in his eyes Jack could see eternity.

"I've lived among the stars, and I'll get there again. No matter how long it takes. I don't care what happens after that, but this is not how I want to end." Suddenly his focus was on Jack again. "Like you, I want to go home."

There was nothing Jack could say in return. He'd been stuck on Earth for a couple of years, his movements restricted to one planet, and it had been driving him crazy. This man, offspring of the universe, had been held captive for four decades, in rooms like this, without ever seeing the sky, and the sun, and the stars. Treated with a hate he most likely didn't deserve, experimented on, used and abused in every possible way.

And he wanted to live.

The doors opened one minute later. Jack left without another word.

- tbc


	2. Chapter 2

John asked him to stay the night and Jack gladly accepted. He got a room on one of the upper floors of the building and a broad bed. Tomorrow, John had decided, Jack should try again. The Doctor didn't trust him but at least he didn't outright despise him either. It was a start.

The encounter with the Time Lord had left Jack more shaken than he liked to admit. He couldn't help the feeling that all this was terribly, terribly wrong.

Jack had never been a friend of unnecessary torture but he had no problem using it if the situation called for it. And the Doctor wasn't his prisoner, and thus not his problem. The worse John and his men treated him the better the chance Jack had to win his trust with a little kindness. All this really shouldn't bother him that much.

It must have been the length of time the alien had been here, Jack decided later. Forty years were just too much to imagine, and there was no hope for the poor guy to ever get out of here. This hopelessness was the reason Jack felt more pity than he should. That, and the impression that the Doctor really didn't deserve this.

"Don't let him fool you," John had reminded him just before he'd entered the Time Lord's cell earlier. "There's something about him that makes people want to like him, but you shouldn't fall for that. It's all just for show. Don't forget that he's an alien, and one with telepathic abilities on top of that."

Jack had kept it in mind. He had a training that helped him block telepathic influences but nothing ever attempted to get past his defences. If someone was suffering without good cause it was only natural to feel some sympathy. Jack knew that, and knew how important it was not to let that sympathy distract him from what he needed to do. So he'd pushed it away long ago, to a part of his mind he heard but never listened to.

He should have pushed the frail-looking man out of his mind the moment the door closed. Dwelling on the Doctor's fate wasn't very professional or profitable. Jack had thought he had long since gotten over this stupid human weakness.

It took him a while to realise that it wasn't the pity that made him feel so uneasy, that kept his thoughts wandering back to the man in the cell. Of course he felt sorry for his fate, more than he probably should but that wasn't the emotion that dominated this picture of the Doctor.

It wasn't pity. It was admiration.

He had saved the world. He was keeping to his morals despite the suffering it brought him.

He wanted to go home. Back to the stars, once more. Jack felt he could sympathise – and he knew how dangerous that was. He tried to get over it but he couldn't change the fact that, more than his brilliance, more than his strength, the Doctor's quiet refusal to give up had impressed him.

It had been a long time since Jack had been impressed by anyone.

Perhaps that was why the shame at being caught trying to betray the Time Lord still lingered.

Despite John's warning and the tale about the murdered medic, Jack found it easier to believe Ianto Jones' opinion of the Doctor. After leaving the cell, waiting for John to finish his work for the night, Jack had tried to find the Welshman again, preferring his company to that of the guards, but the young man had already gone home. Jack ended up sitting in the kitchen again and listening to one of the scientists talk about all the things they had found out about the Doctor over the years: how resistant he was to extreme temperatures, how he could easily deal with poison but was allergic to most human medications, how long he could hold his breath and that his wounds used to heal a lot faster ten years ago. After that the scientist spoke of Torchwood's work and purpose: to protect the British Empire Jack hadn't known existed yet from alien invaders. The man seemed quite proud of all the advanced technology they had taken from said invaders, and how good a test subject the Doctor was for the less lethal weapons they found. The former time agent excused himself around midnight, claiming he wanted to go to bed, and for once didn't ask the guy to accompany him.

Jack was tired but found himself unable to sleep. His thoughts kept wandering back to the Time Lord, wondering how long it would take John and his staff to finish whatever they were doing to him tonight. As punishment for saving this rotten planet once again.

Jack forced those thoughts out of his head, tried not to think about going home either, because the excitement and worry at the idea would keep his mind too busy to sleep. Instead he closed his eyes, firmly, and rolled to his side, the blanket crumbled between his legs.

Somewhere below him the Doctor was being tortured. Right now. Maybe they were poisoning him with aspirin; maybe they tested if he could still stand as many electro shocks as last week, if his burns healed at the same rate as last year. Maybe this moment someone (John?) was pressing his face against the floor and fucking him until he passed out from pain.

Jack turned on his other side. Opened his eyes and stared out of the window, at the city below.

If Jack never saw this place again he certainly wouldn't be upset. It was time for him to leave this period and place behind. It was poisoning his mind.

Once he was gone and could no longer do anything to help he could stop feeling so guilty for doing nothing.

He was just beginning to fall asleep when the door opened and John came in. A glance at the digital watch beside the bed told Jack it was half past three in the morning.

John didn't waste time apologizing for waking him. He got rid of his clothes and jumped onto the bed, and for one moment Jack actually thought he could make a point: push him away, say he didn't want anything to do with him. Claim the moral high ground and tell his former partner that, dangerous criminal or not, empty cruelty could only go so far and that he would not have sex with a sadistic rapist who enjoyed hurting others without just cause.

When John threw himself against him with all the aggressive passion he remembered so well and attacked his mouth without gentleness, Jack kissed him back.

-

The new doctor arrived the next morning: an attractive, dark skinned lady whose age, Jack estimated with one single expert glance, had to be somewhere between forty and sixty-five.

"Dr. Samantha Roberts," John informed him as they watched the woman approach. "Transferred here from Cardiff. She's the best choice for the job of the Doctor's personal doctor due to her medical experience with aliens."

Jack nodded mutely, wondering if that meant she had spent her life dissecting extraterrestrial children that had fallen through that damn rift in time and space. She looked nice enough, but what did that say about a person?

He looked nice enough himself.

Dr. Roberts had been instructed before, of course. John still led her to his office to talk to her about her duties in detail, with Jack trailing behind uninvited. She wasn't particularly friendly, Jack noticed, his heart falling a little. It didn't seem like the prisoner would get much love from his new doctor when she couldn't even summon more than frosty politeness for her employer.

"I suppose you have studied his medical files?" John asked. She regarded him with her cool, emotionless gaze.

"Ever since I joined Torchwood," she replied. "He is a fascinating subject. I am very grateful for the chance to finally study him in person." Her face was completely blank.

"I'm sure." John gave her a charming smile Jack knew to be false "He really is a fantastic alien to study. And a good toy."

She raised an eyebrow.

"That's not very scientific, Sir."

"But fun," John replied with a grin. "He is quite lovely to look at, you'll see – the photos don't do him justice. And his healing abilities are legendary, although they have lessened somewhat over the years. Most of his wounds disappear without even leaving a scar. And it's possible to fuck him until he's quite literally bleeding his insides out and two weeks later he's as tight as a child again."

Jack did his best not to wince. Dr. Roberts blinked slowly and asked in her emotionless voice, "Is that part of the research, Sir?"

John chuckled. "An exceptionally fun one." He nodded. "You'll get to see it all soon enough."

"I can't wait," she replied.

Jack wondered if her refusal to be shocked was disappointing to his friend but once she had left the room John laughed.

"Lovely woman, don't you think?" he asked Jack. "A bit stiff but I'm sure she'll warm up to us, and our pet."

Looked like the lady had passed the test.

"When do I get to see him again?" Jack wanted to know. "I'm pretty sure my vortex manipulator is not a lost cause and I'd like to leave this era behind sooner rather than later."

John grimaced and picked up his phone, made a quick call to another department.

"He's undergoing some tests right now. You can have him after that. And then, if he's still not cooperating, we'll see what he thinks of his new doctor."

-

The Doctor's tests lasted until the afternoon. They were taking place in another part of the complex and the two former time agents from the future arrived in his cell before he was brought back there.

After half an hour of waiting John got bored and decided to show Jack the laboratories and pick up their prisoner while they were at it. They had just arrived in the scientific complex, one level below the main base, when a door opened and two guards appeared, leading the Doctor between them. Once again his hands were cuffed and he looked even worse than the day before. In fact, he looked utterly miserable.

Jack doubted he had gotten any sleep this night.

The Time Lord was looking at them but didn't react to their presence in any way. His steps were very slow, but steady. There was no recognition in his eyes when he looked at Jack.

Once again his long clothes covered any evidence of what had been done to him.

Stopping in front of him Jack noticed that he smelled of soap and that his hair was damp. He wondered if they always cleaned him afterwards or if this was a special service because Jack was there to see him.

John cheerfully told the armed guards what should have been obvious anyway: That they weren't needed here. Jack and John would accompany the Doctor back to his cell and keep him company for a bit. The dirty grin appearing on the face of one of the men told Jack that he was definitely getting the wrong idea here and he felt the odd urge to defend himself against that wrong accusation.

The look of unease on the face of the other guard restored a little bit of Jack's faith in humanity.

But not much, for despite his obvious disapproval, that man just watched and did nothing.

Like Jack himself.

"You remember Jack, don't you?" John addressed the Time Lord, talking as if to a child. "He wants to spend some more time with you. I think he likes you."

The Doctor looked like even keeping his hollow eyes on Jack was an effort. He swayed a little, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. He swallowed a few times, a hard, painful looking motion. When he tried again, his lips moved soundlessly, not even forming words. Even though he looked like he was on the verge of collapse and Jack should have seen it coming, it was just his reflexes that made him reach out in time and catch the Doctor before he fell to the floor.

He sank to his knees, not because of the other man's weight but for the lack of it: It felt like holding clothes wrapped around a skeleton – the Time Lord was even more undernourished than Jack had thought.

"Fuck," he cursed.

The Doctor blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused. He was breathing hard but not fast, trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as possible. His skin was white and covered in a thin layer of sweat. (He had freckles.)

Jack felt sick.

Beside him John cursed as well, while in Jack's arms, the Doctor's breathing became irregular. A few seconds later someone crouched down beside him, shoving him around until they had proper access to the alien's face. An oxygen mask was put over his mouth and nose just before his eyes rolled back and closed.

Jack saw small, dark hands and thought of Dr. Roberts, but when he looked up the face in front of him was young and marked with scars. A hard glare met his.

"Help me get him up there," the young woman in the white clothes ordered, and gestured to the stretcher someone was rolling towards them. She kept the mask in place as Jack lifted the Doctor off the ground and placed him on the stretcher.

The nurse made him lay the Time Lord on his side, secured the oxygen mask, and with a last dark look at Jack and the others, she ordered her colleagues to roll the stretcher to the Doctor's cell. She stayed close beside it, holding the man's wrist and feeling his pulse even as they walked. Of all the nurses that accompanied the Doctor she seemed like the only one that was genuinely concerned for the ill alien. Jack wondered if this was Ianto Jones' wife.

"Yes, that's her," John confirmed when Jack asked about her. "Those scars on her face were the Doctor's doing, by the way."

It was another thing that didn't fit. Jack remembered John telling him something about 'misguided gratitude' the pair felt for the alien.

"What would have been the alternative?" he asked. John ignored his question, leading him further through the complex. From time to time he gave explanations about the equipment and staff, but Jack's mind was elsewhere.

In the end they returned to the Doctor's cell, but neither of them were surprised to find the alien still unconscious. Dr. Roberts was with him.

They arrived just when she was pulling his shirt down over his torso again; Jack caught no more than a brief glimpse of the Time Lord's skin but it was enough to make him feel slightly sick. Most of his wounds healed without leaving a trace, John had said. Only the worst left permanent marks.

Well, forty years were long enough a time to collect such a number of scars…

The doctor gazed up at them dispassionately.

"He's not going to talk to you today," she announced. It didn't surprise Jack very much but he grimaced anyway – every extra day he spent here was another day too long. Hopefully the Doctor would be too dazed and ill tomorrow to argue with him and just give him what he wanted. (One second later Jack felt guilty for thinking this.)

"What made him pass out in the first place?" John asked, an irritated frown on his face.

Roberts gestured to a few printed pieces of paper lying on the chair. "There's the test report. From what I can tell without having been there I'd say it was a combination of pain, exhaustion and blood loss. He's also running a very high fever and his heart rate is too fast and irregular. I can tell you more once I've analysed his blood."

John snorted disapprovingly, staring at the still, pale Time Lord with a look of disdain on his face. Mrs. Jones was standing beside the doctor, refusing to even look in their direction, and Jack's eyes were once again drawn to the scars on her face – large patches of pale skin on her temples and the sides of her chin. There were similar scars on her arms he noticed when she handed Dr. Roberts a syringe. When the doctor rolled up the alien's sleeve and injected the greenish blue solution into his arm, her touch was unexpectedly gentle. Only now did Jack notice that the cuffs were gone. This was the first time he got to see the Doctor entirely without bonds.

His skin was so pale that Jack almost missed the scars there. He was distracted anyway, by the six, angry red dots, like injection marks, running in regular intervals down the underside of his forearm.

"What is that?" he asked.

Dr Roberts answered without looking up from her work. "Research."

-

One hour later Jack went to the kitchen and was glad to see Ianto Jones sitting at one of the tables with a sandwich and a cup of coffee. John had excused himself, saying he had to call someone from the government today.

"Even Torchwood isn't what it once was," Jack's old partner had complained. "Once we were outside the government, beyond the police. Technically we still are but we receive some of our funds from the Ministry of Defence and the damn minister keeps poking his nose into our business."

Jack hadn't been particularly unhappy to be rid of him. He'd tried to get back to the Doctor's cell, see how he was doing, but the guards wouldn't let him through. By the time he got hungry, he was bored and frustrated on top of it, and now happy to meet someone he didn't feel obligated to despise.

"I met your wife today," Jack said after grabbing a sandwich from the refrigerator and sitting next to Jones. "When I went to see the Doctor."

"What did you want him for?" The other man sounded casual, but Jack detected a suspiciousness he didn't like in his gaze.

"Just talk." He shrugged, pretending not to notice. "You see, I have this bit of technology. Harmless technology, I have to add. A travelling device. But it's broken and I wanted to see if he could fix it. He doesn't trust me, though. Not that I blame him," he added after a second, his voice sympathetic. "Poor guy. I can't believe anyone deserves to be treated this way."

Jones' expression softened. "He doesn't, in any case. How is he?"

Jack sighed, hoping it didn't seem exaggerated. "Not so good. He collapsed before I could talk to him. He's resting now. That's how I met your wife." He hesitated a calculated moment. "Those scars on her face… the General said the Doctor caused them. But I just can't believe that!" Inwardly he winced. He was overdoing it, wasn't he? But Jones didn't seem to see through his act, fortunately. Jack needed to win his trust, make him see he was on the Doctor's side. If Jones convinced his wife that Jack was a decent guy who meant the Doctor no harm, the nurse might tell the Doctor, giving Jack a chance to get through his defences.

To his surprise, Jones shook his head.

"It was him," he said. "Lisa and me, we both worked for Torchwood One when it still existed. During the Battle of Canary Warf Lisa was taken by the Cybermen."

Jack winced. "They tried to convert her," he realised. Ianto nodded.

"I got her out before the process was complete, but she'd already partially been turned into one of them. With the technology the Cybermen left behind, we could keep her alive but there was no changing her back. Until the Doctor was brought here. He saw her and insisted on helping. Needed about half a day to get rid of the transplants. Without him, she'd have metal in the place of those scars, if she was still alive."

Jack found himself smiling, a little bitterly. After all he'd seen this sounded like something the Doctor would do.

"I think for the General it was some kind of test to see if the Doctor would really help her," Ianto added. "She was expendable, after all." He didn't seem to like John very much.

"No wonder the two of you are so fond of him," Jack stated.

Ianto sighed. "Everyone here should be. He didn't save only her but all of us. He was the one who defeated the Cybermen, and the Daleks, years before he saved Lisa."

Jack lifted his eyebrows. Ianto understood the question and explained:

"You know he's a time traveller. The Daleks he defeated before he was captured by Torchwood, while somewhere else an older version of him had been locked away for decades." His eyes were sad, suddenly. "I didn't know that, then, when I saw him save the world for the first time. I'm not even sure Yvonne, our leader, did. Torchwood Two tended to keep things to themselves a lot, and unimportant people like us were never told anything anyway." He finished his sandwich. "You know, when they moved in here and I saw him again… He doesn't age but I knew immediately that a lot of time had passed for him since I last saw him. He was so…" The young man stopped, not finding the words. Jack understood anyway.

"Why doesn't Lisa let her scars be removed?" he changed the topic, hoping he wasn't rude. "It should be possible to make them at least a lot less obvious."

"She wants to keep them," Ianto told him. "A least while she works here. As a reminder to everyone of what the Doctor has done for her. She wants new co-workers to ask her about her scars so she can tell her story. But they usually ask someone else first."

And Jack could pretty much imagine what they were told then.

"Why does everyone hate the Doctor so much if he's such a great guy?" he wondered aloud.

"Why else?" Ianto snorted. "Because our leaders want them to. They want to keep him locked in here and if everyone knew the truth they might have doubts about that."

"But the two of you, you know. Doesn't the General mind if you try to convince everyone?"

Ianto hesitated, staring into his cup thoughtfully.

"He tolerates it because no one listens to us anyway," he finally said, but Jack could see there was more to it. He thought of John and his homicidal tendencies. A quick look around told him they were alone in the large kitchen.

"Maybe you should find a job somewhere else," he said quietly. Ianto gave him a half smile.

"The Doctor said the same, to Lisa. Get out before the General decides to kill us and blame him for it. But if we left he'd probably kill us anyway, or at least erase our memories. No one leaves Torchwood that easily."

It made sense to Jack – top-secret organisations didn't let anyone just walk out on them.

"Our best option," Ianto continued, "is to wait and hope the General gets replaced before he gets tired of us."

-

Secretly Jack agreed: John needed to be removed from his position of power. He'd been dangerous enough when he was just a normal guy with a gun and a vortex manipulator.

They met again in the evening, and even while they had sex in a storage room Jack wondered if his old friend really wanted to go home as badly as he did. The other man kept going on about the various projects he had running, plans he had made here, and things he would do if he ever got the Doctor to fix that Kryk-weapon for him. Someone who was about to leave forever wouldn't talk like that. It was okay for Jack, though. The more time he spent with John the less sad he felt about leaving him behind.

What bothered him most was John's idea that once Jack had won over the Doctor and made him fix the vortex manipulator he could maybe make him fix a number of other things. Pretend they were harmless, tools to help rather than destroy. The Doctor liked things like that, like every insane, dangerous killer-alien would, Jack thought sourly.

He was supposed to win the Doctor's trust and then use him. Since Jack's entire career as a conman had been built on the betrayal of trust, he didn't understand why the idea made him feel so uncomfortable now. Maybe it was the fact that John was trying to use him to get what he wanted, but then Jack usually didn't mind being used, as long as he got something out of it himself.

To keep John (and himself) from thinking he was getting soft, he kept his thoughts to himself. But he wasn't sad when his former partner chose to spend tonight somewhere else. This time Jack spent the entire night rolling from one side to the other, not just the better part of it. He kept thinking of Ianto and Lisa and the danger they were in. The danger everyone was in as long as John had his finger on the metaphorical red button.

Most of all he was thinking of the Doctor. Jack felt more sorry for the alien than he had any right to, but every time he tried to concentrate on something else (like falling asleep) he ended up wondering if the Time Lord had woken up yet, and if, for once, they would leave him alone.

He hoped so. After all, both he and John wanted the Doctor to be alert enough for a conversation tomorrow.

A part of Jack was almost hoping he wouldn't be able to convince the prisoner of his good intentions because he knew he'd feel bad for betraying this man who must have been betrayed so many times before. (He also knew he'd go through with it anyway.) But mostly he was glad that he was supposed to win the Doctor's trust, as winning his trust meant he wouldn't be asked to torture him.

When the sun finally began to rise, Jack fell into a restless slumber, with his sub-consciousness trying to figure out how to help the prisoner, even a little. Jack woke up less than two hours later, tired and grumpy, his head full of ideas that made no sense.

-

He met Dr. Roberts in the hall. She was just about to leave, and one look at her tired face told Jack that she had stayed with the Doctor all night. Dedicated to her work, at least. He kept himself from asking what she had done there all the time.

Instead he asked about the Doctor's condition.

"I gave him something to keep him asleep all night," she answered in a firm and icy tone that didn't go along with her heavy eyelids. "He'll wake up soon, and be well enough to speak to you. If there's any problem with his health, call me. I'll be upstairs." Without a second glance she walked away.

When Jack arrived at John's office he found it deserted. For half an hour he killed the time trying to sort though his drawers and finding them all locked. Really, how paranoid could one man be?

When John finally showed up he had little time for conversation.

"I just received a call – the Doctor is awake and probably eager to see you. Unfortunately there's someone else who wants to see him first. It won't take long, I hope." He grimaced. "Once Mister Important had the decency to show up here, of course."

"Who is it?" He had to be fairly important if John waited for him despite his obvious dislike.

"Some guy from the government." John shrugged, indicating that he didn't really care. "He'll be here in about forty minutes."

-

The man from the government arrived one hour later, as if to show he was important enough to make them wait. He was.

When John had talked about 'some guy', Jack hadn't suspected he'd mean the Minister of Defence and assumed next Prime Minister. He strode into the office unannounced, with a smile and his hands in his pockets, flanked by two bodyguards in black suits.

"Sorry to make you wait," he greeted them cheerfully. "You know how it is: Things to take care of. Matters of the state. I won't bore you with them." He offered his had for John to shake, then for Jack. His grip was firm, strong, but not too strong, his skin cool. Jack grinned at him.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Saxon," he said. "You look fabulous in that suit."

"Yes, I know!" The Minister beamed back. "No need to flatter me. It's enough if you just give me your vote."

"I would, if I was actually registered as a citizen," Jack said, reluctantly releasing the other's hand. To his own surprise he found that it was true: He had little interest in British politics and since he wasn't able to vote anywhere in the world, he never had to think about things like that anyway, but standing in front of this man Jack knew he would indeed have voted for him. He was charismatic and sharp, and what Jack knew about his political agenda made a lot of sense. He found himself hoping the man would make it. He could do the country a lot of good.

Also, he looked hot in a suit.

John cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

No one invited Jack to come along but neither was he stopped when he did. Saxon's bodyguards, on the other hand, had to stay behind in the hall. As they neared the Doctor's cell Jack asked what the politician wanted with the alien.

"Just see him, that's all," he was told. "I've been curious about this one for a long time. And, you know, I'll probably be too busy to come here after the election."

Jack actually found some sympathy for the poor man in his heart before he noticed that they were treating the Doctor like an animal in a zoo.

The impression was only strengthened when they passed the door to the cell without stopping and walked on until they reached another room. This room had a door just a heavy, but they entered a chamber just beside it, which was small and dark and had a window to the neighbouring room. One-sided, Jack assumed. They could see the Doctor, sitting there on the single, uncomfortable chair, but he couldn't see them. An animal on display. Jack could only hope they didn't have any performance planned for their guest.

The minister had never been to meet the alien in person. Jack could tell because there were no handcuffs this time, and no armed guards. Just the chair and the hard floor and long white sleeves falling to the knuckles of the prisoner's hands. A turtleneck shirt, as usual, hiding his neck.

The Doctor was slumped in his chair as if sitting straight was too much of an effort. He didn't look tense, though, just tired, like a man using a short break from work to get some rest. Jack wondered if anyone else could be in his position and portray anything but fear.

When they came in, however, the Time Lord sharply lifted his head. All remaining colour drained from his already pale face as he stared at what for him would be a mirror. His lips moved soundlessly.

He shook his head, slightly, as if in denial.

Saxon stared back, utterly still. The smile was gone from his face, his eyes. In the light falling in through the window, he looked like a different person.

The Doctor rose from his chair.

"He can't see us, can he?" Jack asked, for he couldn't explain why the Doctor seemed to stare directly at the man standing beside him. John looked equally puzzled.

"No," he said. "Can't hear us either."

The Doctor didn't pay any attention to them – which shouldn't have been possible for him anyway. His gaze remained fixed on Saxon, and then he was standing right in front of them, kept away only by a plane of glass that all of a sudden seemed incredibly thin.

After a second Jack remembered how to breathe, and that this man was no danger to them. There'd be no reason to fear him even if he was not locked away in another room, and still Jack did, for once second he did. In this moment, for the first time since Jack had met him, the Doctor seemed incredible alien. Incomprehensible and powerful.

_'We can't keep him here,'_ Jack thought, fighting panic._ 'We're all going to pay if we do.'_

There was no logic to this thought but the impression lingered. It rooted him to the spot, paralyzed him as the Doctor lifted his hand and pressed it against the glass so that Jack could see the thin scars running across the palm. Out of the corner of is eye Jack noticed John stumbling half a step backwards, his face pale. He felt it too.

Saxon lifted his own hand and pressed it against the Doctor's. Palm to palm, with only the window between them. Look but don't touch. Time stopped.

Then the emotions rushed back into the Doctors eyes. So many different feelings and the only one Jack could put a name to was naked desperation. His legs gave way and his hand slipped away from the glass as he fell to the floor. Out of sight, just beneath the window.

"What the hell was that?" John cursed.

"Oh," Saxon said, sounding genuinely upset. "He fainted, the poor thing. I seem to have that effect on people. My apologizes – I hope he's not badly damaged."

"So do I," John growled. "Torchwood has some work to do, and that's impossible if he's out of order all the time." He activated the little device put over his right ear and ordered a medical team to the interrogation room. When he was done, the politician was already at the door.

"That was most interesting," he said. "But as much as I'd love to stay a little longer, my duties call me back to the ministry. If you'll show me the way out –"

There were a thousand questions Jack wanted to ask but none of them came out his lips on the long walk back through the corridors. At some point they met Dr. Roberts, who looked like she'd fallen out of bed just two minutes ago. Saxon greeted her with a smile and a little bow. She had nothing but an irritated glare to give him as she rushed past.

- tbc


	3. Chapter 3

They couldn't have been gone for longer than twenty minutes, but by the time they came back to the cell, Dr. Roberts wasn't there anymore. In her place Lisa Jones was sitting at the unconscious Doctor's side.

The Time Lord's head had been placed on a pillow, apart from that he was laying on the cold, hard stone floor. His hands were cuffed now, and there was a guard standing beside the door.

"There's nothing physically wrong with him," the nurse informed them. "Dr. Roberts said he'll wake up any moment."

"And where did she go now?" The irritation was back on John's face. "For all her enthusiasm about working with the Doctor that woman seems to be making an effort to never be around when he's awake."

"She'll be back in a moment," Lisa said tensely.

"Well, she'd better! After all —"

The Doctor kept John from finishing the sentence by opening his eyes. For a moment he stared at the ceiling, then he blinked and his eyes were on John. His expression darkened.

"Good to see you awake again, my friend," the leader of Torchwood said sweetly. "I think it's time we have a little chat."

He gestured for the guard to close the door. Jack had expected him to send Lisa out first, and possibly even him, but John seemed to ignore their presence. Feeling nervous all of a sudden Jack exchanged a glance with the nurse who obviously shared his unease.

"What exactly just happened?" John asked the Doctor, who was being helped to his feet by Lisa. "What's going on with you and Saxon?"

"Saxon?" The Doctor's face was blank. "The man who was just here? He's called Saxon?" The seriousness in his eyes did nothing to ease Jack's feelings. "Who is he?"

"You tell me," John insisted. "I got the impression you know each other."

The Doctor didn't answer.

John stepped closer — his posture was threatening but all Jack could think was that the Doctor was a lot taller than him.

"I want to know what's going on between the two of you, and you'd better tell me before I lose my patience. Because, believe me, if he gets elected Prime Minister and I don't know how he's connected to you he's not going to find you if he ever comes here again. At least not in one piece."

John was feeling threatened by the politician, Jack suddenly realised. The Ministry of Defence already had some influence over Torchwood — Once he ran the country it would be within Saxon's power to take the institute over completely.

And if he was connected to the Doctor somehow, if he could in any way influence the man who was such a precious scientific and technical adviser for them even as a prisoner, how could they be sure that the politician hadn't been leaving his mark on Torchwood's work for years?

"Prime Minister?" The Time Lord seemed even more troubled than before, almost shocked. "He's going to be _Prime Minister_?"

"You don't know?" John snorted.

"How could I? It's not like you'd let me watch the news channel." Even as he spoke the Doctor seemed distracted. He appeared to grow more distressed with every second.

"But you do know him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," the Doctor admitted. "I thought he was dead."

"Right…" John tapped his lips with his finger. "Somehow I don't believe you. I think you've had contact before."

Jack noticed that he never asked how the Doctor could have seen the other man through the mirror. He looked at it, briefly, and found his own reflection glancing back. It seemed to have little in common with the man he saw in the bathroom mirror this morning. Funny how here, in a cell with an abused prisoner and a psychopathic man he called his friend, he looked like a stranger.

Only after a moment did he remember that the Doctor had some telepathic abilities. Jack hadn't expected them to be strong enough to work without at least visual contact.

"Who is he?" This time it was John who posed the question. He got no answer.

John sighed exaggeratedly, turned around and ordered the guard to give him his gun. The man did so, after a second of hesitation. Instead of pointing the weapon at the Doctor John just said, "Thank you," and shot the guard in the leg. With a scream of pain and surprise, the man fell to the ground. It mingled with Lisa's shocked gasp.

"No!" the Doctor yelled. "Why did you do that? He's done nothing wrong!" To Jack, used to the prisoner speaking quietly, the volume of his voice was almost as much a shock as John's action. The Time Lord fell to his knees beside the guard, pressing his bound hands against the wound. Jack moved to help him, but John held him back.

"No, he hasn't," he agreed. "But you have. And now you'd better behave or someone else will get hurt." The Doctor looked up, his eyes following John's gaze to rest on Lisa. She stared at them, her eyes full of fear.

_'John has always planned to kill her eventually,_' Jack thought numbly. _'And she knows. Hell, she knows it!'_

And so did the Doctor.

"Don't," he begged quietly.

"Then answer me!" John demanded. "Who is Saxon to you? What are you planning?"

"I'll tell you everything," the Doctor promised. "If you swear not to hurt her, or anyone else in this room."

For the first time Jack got the idea that this also included him. As John's old friend and part-time lover he had felt excluded from his homicidal tendencies but as John looked at him now he wasn't so sure anymore. The look the Doctor threw him said that the Time Lord worried for him as much as the nurse and the wounded guard. Somehow this concern made Jack feel worse than he ever had, and yet…

"All right," John agreed. "They'll be fine. But you should hurry up, before our friend here bleeds to death."

"He calls himself the Master," said the Doctor, while applying pressure to the guard's wound. "He's an old enemy of mine. He looks human but he's an alien, and if he wants to become Prime Minister, he needs to be stopped." His gaze was intense. "Whatever he has in mind, it's definitely not 'the best for this country'."

"What are the two of you up to?"

"Nothing! Until half an hour ago I was sure he'd died." There was real desperation in the Doctor's eyes, but Jack wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the gun or the fact that John would never believe him.

The guard had stopped whimpering. He was staring at John, at the gun, with fear and disbelief etched over his face — maybe finally realising who was the true villain here.

"I don't believe you," John declared, turning and shooting the guard in the head. Blood splattered over the floor, the wall. Lisa screamed.

The Doctor didn't show any reaction at all. After a second he uselessly felt for the man's pulse, and when he rose to his feet, Jack saw barely restrained fury in is face.

John had his back turned to Jack. He should grab him, get the gun, Jack thought, because there was no way he'd let the girl go to tell everyone what had happened here. But John's reflexes were quick, and he'd shoot Jack if he attacked him. Jack knew it and did nothing.

"Again," John said with long suffering patience. "What are you planning? How long has he been in contact with you? The truth, please."

"You don't want to hear the truth," the Doctor spat. "You want to hear a confirmation of the facts you have made up in your mind. Nothing else will satisfy you." He moved slowly, until he was standing between Lisa and the gun.

Jack knew it wouldn't save her.

John suddenly changed the topic. "Can you fix Jack's vortex manipulator?"

"Theoretically," the Doctor admitted reluctantly and John turned to throw a quick grin at Jack.

"See? Interrogation is so much easier if you spice it with a little violence." Jack glared at him.

"Why not practically?" John addressed the Doctor again.

"I don't have the right tools."

"And if you had?"

"Then I wouldn't do it."

This time Jack couldn't keep himself from speaking. "Why not?" He took a step forward.

"Because the energy of the vortex manipulator would serve Mr. Hart here as a power source for a weapon that could completely destroy the human mind at the touch of a button" the Doctor informed him. "He didn't tell you?"

Jack turned sharply, but John completely ignored his stare.

"Annoying me is more important to you than poor Lisa's life?" he asked. "Because I'm gonna shoot her if you don't help me."

"What part of 'I don't have the right tools' didn't you understand?" the Doctor sneered. "And you're going to shoot her anyway. You've just proven once again that your promises are worthless."

For a second his eyes met Jack's and the conman read the unspoken plea in them. There was only one way to keep Lisa alive: Taking out John. But for that the Doctor needed Jack's help. The alien would keep the armed man's attention on himself, giving Jack a chance to grab him from behind.

Jack desperately wished he hadn't had all his weapons taken away when he first entered the building. Pointing a gun at John's head, forcing him to think twice about this would have been easier than to physically attack him and hope he wasn't shot first. And John would hardly accept his apology afterwards. No, he would have him killed just like Lisa. Even if they managed to get out of this room, they'd never leave the building, and no one would believe them if they told what had really happened to the guard. Who was the Doctor fooling? Fighting John would at best buy them time they couldn't use for anything. Jack hated the idea of Lisa dying but he wasn't going to die with her.

The only way to escape John's wrath would be to take him out of the picture permanently.

The thought came unbidden and inevitably. The Doctor glanced at him again and Jack found himself unable to move. This was the moment where he determined what kind of man he was. This was where he chose his side: The right one (an old lover and his own safety) or the good one (a kind-hearted woman and the most heroic man he had ever met).

He came to a decision half a second before John lifted his other arm and suddenly had a second gun pointing right at Jack's face.

"Sorry, Doctor," he said. "I couldn't help noticing how you tried to make dear Jack act against me. And since he's a bit soft at times, he'd feel awful later for doing nothing. So I thought I'd spare him the torment by taking the decision away from him. I hope you don't mind."

According to the look on the Doctor's face he did mind. He also appeared to believe John to be lying, that Jack _would_ have helped him. And a part of Jack wanted to live up to his expectations, prove himself worthy of that trust, given to him by the only person who'd ever thought highly of him despite having no reason to do so. But the gun pointed at his face made remain still.

There was desperation in the Doctor's eyes when he realised he couldn't do anything, and Jack was struck with the irony of the fact that the alien, despite his situation, was the only one in this room not in danger of losing his life.

All three men were surprised when Lisa suddenly stepped out of the Doctor's shadow. On her face Jack saw fear but also acceptance as she said, "You won't always get away with murder, Hart."

"That's 'General' to you," John corrected her. "But as last words go, it wasn't so bad, if a bit cliché." He fired.

And managed to move the gun the very last second so the shot went astray and only hit the Doctor's arm as he knocked Lisa to the ground. The second shot followed a second later and then Lisa was laying in her own blood, the back of her head a destroyed mess.

"I thought you'd do something like that," John said coldly, looking down at his prisoner. "Though I'd like to know what exactly you were hoping to archive by that. For being such a genius, you are incredibly stupid sometimes."

Jack's growing dislike for his former partner turned to hatred as he gave him an arrogant smile.

The Doctor was curled up on the ground, not even able to clutch the wound right below his shoulder, due to his cuffed hands.

"Bastard!" he gasped. "She's done nothing to you!" He looked at the still body of the nurse lying beside him and started to cry, helpless, silent tears running down his face.

"It's what happens to the people who get involved with you: they die." John turned briefly to leer at the alien. "This is your fault, Doctor. And after we've found the right tools for you to work with, we'll see how many more have to be killed before you finally show some cooperation."

The Doctor let out a broken half sob. Jack could see he really did blame himself for what had happened to Lisa.

"I told her to get out," the conman heard him whisper, almost inaudibly, as he knelt down beside him. "I told her…"

"Hold still," Jack murmured, not knowing what else to say. "Let me look at that wound."

The Doctor glanced up at him with tears in his eyes, so hurt and desperate, but not broken. Not yet completely broken.

His lips formed a name and Jack found himself nodding ever so slightly. He'd had the same thought.

"You're not looking at anything." Suddenly John was standing beside Jack, pulling him to his feet. "And you're not telling anyone what really happened here." He led Jack to the door and contacted the guards outside over his earpiece to make them open the lock.

"We can't just leave him lying there!" Jack protested. "He'll bleed to death."

"Oh, he'll be taken care of, don't worry," John assured him. "But not by you."

The door opened and John gave a surprisingly convincing performance for the two guards even as he shoved Jack outside. He gestured at the bloody mess inside the cell, told the shocked men his version of how their colleague had died. Then he cursed the dead man, ranted how he had reminded the guards over and over again they should keep in mind how fast the Doctor could be, and that he would kill whenever he got the chance — even people who had been nothing but kind to him, like poor Lisa. It was pure luck that made John take him out before he could shoot him and Jack as well.

Jack hadn't known he could act this well. He saw the two men's expressions change from disbelief to fury as they looked at the injured alien on the floor. The urge to tell them the truth was strong but he knew better than to do so. They wouldn't listen to him, and John would never let him see the Doctor again, if he didn't simply kill him.

(It made perfect sense but Jack failed to convince himself that it was common sense that made him act this way, and not cowardice.)

To make matters worse Dr. Roberts still hadn't come back. Jack didn't like her but she would at least care for the Doctor's wound properly. And with her presence the guards wouldn't touch the alien, no matter now angry they were. Jack was sure of it.

His heart sank when John ordered the two men to take care of the Doctor's injury themselves.

"Make sure he lives," he added, and Jack knew his words didn't just refer to stopping the bleeding.

"They'll kill him!" he exclaimed once the guards had closed the door of the cell after them.

"Uhm, no," John replied. "I just told them not to. They're too smart to go against my orders. Won't even cripple him. Well, maybe a little."

Alone in the corridor, Jack had no reason to hold back. John stumbled backwards after Jack's fist hit his face.

"You _murdered_ them!" he hissed. "There was no need for that!"

John rubbed his jaw, though Jack could tell he didn't mind the violence. "Our friend might think twice about being stubborn next time." He grimaced. "Though he has failed to learn that lesson before…"

"When you killed Dr. Roberts' predecessor and blamed him for it," Jack suspected. "You asshole! You've completely lost it!" He didn't say _'I don't recognize you anymore'_ because John had always been like this. In the old days it had just never such an impact on Jack.

A shadow moved at the end of the corridor, cast by a person staying wisely out of sight. Jack had to keep John from spotting it, to prevent him from killing anyone else.

"And about my vortex manipulator: when exactly did you plan on telling me you just wanted to turn it into a weapon? I thought you wanted to go home!"

"I do! Though I have to say I've grown fond of this place." To Jack's relief John's eyes stayed on him. If he turned around, he'd just have to hit him again.

With pleasure.

"No need to worry though," the other man continued. "There'll be enough energy left for a few jumps when I'm finished with it."

"If the Doctor ever fixes it for you," Jack pointed out. He didn't say 'for us'. And somehow the fact that he wouldn't get away from here this way didn't seem so important at the moment.

"Oh, he will. Eventually."

"How can you be so sure? You'll just keep killing people no matter what he does. And he'll know, because he can read your mind. How did you ever think he would trust me, if he could see my — and your — intentions clearly in our heads?"

"He can't read our minds. Don't worry."

"Then why did you say he was telepathic?"

"Because he is."

"You're not making sense here, John, and right now I'm not feeling particularly patient."

John sighed. "His telepathy only works if he touches you, but we're suppressing it with drugs anyway. Sometimes he still senses things, though. That's how he knew about Saxon, I guess. Makes sense if they know each other."

"Ah, yes, Saxon." Jack snorted. "You know, if they had regular contact, the Doctor would hardly have given it away by his reaction."

John only shrugged. "There are many ways of contact. I'm not taking any risks."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Leave that to me." John seemed ready to go.

"You're going back to your office?" The question was completely unnecessary. It only served to warn whoever was lurking around the corner to get away now.

"Yep. Things to organize. You'd get bored. I'd advise you to find something to keep yourself occupied until I'm done. Some of my employees are good in bed — you have my permission to distract them for work. I think you need to blow off some steam."

"Right," Jack said. Keeping an employee from work was exactly what he had in mind.

With one last look at the closed door, he turned around and followed John out of the complex.

-

Dr. Roberts finally showed up just before they reached the main base. When asked about her absence, she told them she'd been running a test on the Doctor's blood to find an explanation for his sudden fainting spell and Jack silently cursed her for her timing. John ordered her to get back to whatever she'd been doing and don't go to the cell before she was called there. She just shrugged in response and walked away.

As he hurried through the base, Jack couldn't stop wondering why the Doctor had pushed Lisa out of the way — he couldn't have really believed that would save her. In the end he came to the conclusion that the Time Lord just couldn't help himself. A friend was in danger and he had to do _something_. No matter how useless. He wasn't the kind of man who'd just watch, even if it were hopeless.

Unlike Jack.

Eventually the ex-time agent found a large hall full of desks, and he stole a pen and a piece of paper to scribble a short message. It took him a moment to spot Ianto Jones, sitting on a desk in the last row. Poor bastard. He didn't know yet.

The speaker in the wall cracked to life as Jack approached him, and he suppressed a shudder when John's voice asked Mr. Jones to come to his office immediately. Now his wife was gone Ianto wouldn't live for much longer. The Doctor knew that just as well as Jack — for that reason he'd mouthed Ianto's name to him earlier.

This was one thing Jack could do for the Time Lord.

Ianto's eyes widened when he left his working place to find Jack standing in front of him.

"Let me walk with you for a bit," he said.

Once they were in the corridor and no one was in hearing distance Jack whispered, "Don't go to the General. Leave here at once before he has a chance to grow impatient and alerts the guys from security. He's finally decided to kill you."

Ianto paled. He opened his mouth to reply but Jack stopped him.

"Your wife has already been warned. She'll meet you at the airport. It's best for you to leave the country for a while. Don't go home to pack. Empty your bank account, you're going to lose it anyway." He slipped the folded note into the younger man's pocket without him noticing. "Good luck."

Jack waited only long enough to see him nod before he turned and walked in the other direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ianto heading for the lift — quickly, but not quick enough to look suspicious. He might actually stay alive for a few days.

Eventually he'd find Jack's note. It would tell him that his wife was dead, and that he should never come back here — Jack would take care of John. It was a blatant lie, but he had to stop them young fool from getting killed attempting to take revenge on Lisa's murderer.

The note also said that the Doctor had tried to protect her. Somehow Jack wanted him to know that.

He turned around a corner and ran into Dr. Roberts.

"We have to talk," she said.

-

It wasn't going to be just any talk. It was going to be a top secret no-one-shall-hear-this talk. Jack could tell because she led him to her laboratory, send out the assistant and locked the door.

He looked around with fake interest.

"So… this is where the bits cut out of the Doctor end up, is it?" he asked lightly.

"No," the medic said impatiently. "My job is to keep him alive and moderately well. I have nothing to do with the experiments."

"You seem to know a lot about them, though."

"I have to, if I want to treat him correctly." She pulled a plastic chair out from under a table. "You might want to sit down." When he declined, she sat down herself without further reaction.

"What's this about?" Jack asked suspiciously. He'd been feeling strangely numb, too emotionally exhausted to care much for her mysterious behaviour but now curiosity was taking over. "Why this secrecy? If you want into my pants you just have to say so."

"I know you warned Mr. Jones to get away," she told him.

Jack let his head fall back. "Ah."

"And," she continued, "I heard your argument with Hart."

"That was you around the corner." Jack realised.

"Yes. And you didn't tell him." For the first time the hint of a smile appeared on her face. It made her look younger and a lot gentler. "Why not?"

Jack shrugged uncomfortably.

"I didn't want him to kill anyone else, I guess," he admitted.

"Well, you can prevent him from killing _me_ by keeping this conversation a secret."

It wasn't a hard promise to make.

-

If there had still been any doubt to Jack that there was more to this woman than he had thought, he would have learned better now.

As it turned out the Doctor had a lot of friends here on Earth. Friends who knew about his situation and were determined to get him out of here. He was quite surprised to learn that the little group that had worked out a plan to rescue the Time Lord was supported by UNIT.

"They tried to get Torchwood to hand him over years ago, but they refused. A mission to break in and free him also failed."

"And you think you can succeed where UNIT failed?" Jack had his doubts, and a voice at the back of his head was warning him that maybe this was a trick, that John had sent her to test his loyalties. If that was true, Ianto was dead by now.

"I'm here, aren't I? I'm the first of us who has even _seen _him since his capture."

"Right. So they got themselves an ally inside the Institute. Always handy. How did they win you over?"

She shook her head.

"I was the one who found _them_. The Doctor's life isn't linear. He keeps showing up out there, a younger him… Without me no one would ever have learned what happened to him."

Jack hadn't expected that. He looked at the doctor in her white coat and wondered who she was.

"It took me a while to find Torchwood and even longer to get employed by them," she explained. "My experience with alien life forms helped, though. But I worked at the wrong Torchwood. There's a branch in Cardiff, watching over a rift in time and space. Eventually I found out where the Doctor was, but I couldn't do anything. For years I could only watch from a very long distance."

He winces inwardly at the bitterness and pain in her voice.

"And then you got transferred here, as his personal doctor," he continued her story. "Very convenient, wasn't it?"

"It would have been convenient had it happened twenty years sooner," she points out.

"I suspect Dr. Roberts isn't your actual name then?"

"Yes, it is. I'm just not really called Samantha." She didn't seem inclined to explain further, so Jack asked the question that was burning on his tongue:

"I suppose now you've finally got to him, you have some grand plan to get him out of here. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm a good observer who's also good at reading people," she replied. "I didn't think much of you at first, but I noticed that you felt sorry for the Doctor. You didn't seem to dislike him and according to what Lisa Jones told me, you seemed genuinely interested in his fate. Then I heard your argument with the General and saw you help Lisa's husband. I think out of all people here you're the best person to ask for help."

"You trust me?" His eyebrows rose, quite significantly.

"No," she said honestly. "You're Hart's friend. But I need you and have to take the risk."

Jack thought back to the bloody cell, to the Doctor's silent plea. "The Doctor trusted me."

It didn't seem to surprise her.

"He's like that. Always thinking people to be better than they are."

He had to be, yes. But perhaps he was making those people better through his belief.

"Lisa is dead," Jack told her. For a second Roberts closed her eyes.

"I know."

"What do you need me for?"

Jack did trust this woman, he found out. She wasn't lying to him — the Doctor mattered to her, more than he could imagine. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice when she spoke of him.

"The escape is planned for this morning, half an hour before the regular staff moves in. I don't know exactly what's going on in that cell, but I don't think he'll be able to walk by himself once they are done with him." There it was again, the pain in her voice. "I can't carry him."

"So I'm the muscle," he realised.

"Yes, you are," she confirmed, before adding: "Or the traitor, telling your friend and having me shot. Destroying the Doctor's best chance of freedom."

He looked her in the eyes and saw hope there, determination, but no fear. She was brave, heroic even — she was what he'd wanted to be, once. Maybe that was what happened to the people who touched the Doctor.

Maybe that was what had happened to him, because he found out that he still wanted to be like that, that he still wanted to be a hero. He'd disappointed the Doctor when he'd let Lisa die, had had no other choice then. Jack needed to prove he was better than that if given the chance.

"John isn't my friend," he said.

-

She didn't tell Jack the details of the plan — he couldn't blame her for not fully trusting him and didn't try too hard to find out.

In the end, she sent him away with the instruction to wait in his room and come when she called for him. Jack could imagine John showing up tonight, because Jack was pissed at him and John liked it when he was aggressive and violent. He wouldn't let him in, though. Play the sulking lover if he had to. Eventually the other man would give up.

As he left the laboratory, Jack asked one more thing he wanted to know:

"How long have you been trying to get to him?"

Roberts smiled her bitter little smile.

"Since the very beginning."

-

As expected, Jack didn't find any sleep but the adrenaline pushed him forward even after three days without sufficient rest. Dr. Roberts called him on his mobile at half past four in the morning and he met her in the hall.

She'd just gotten an order to get to the Doctor, she told him. Jack would get into the restricted area with her, sporting a special allowance from the head of the organization. He was quite surprised to see the psychic paper she handed him — he'd lost his when his spaceship exploded.

They found the Doctor in his usual cell but not on the bed as Jack had expected, but kneeling folded up in the middle of the room. His ankles were chained to a hook in the floor, his wrists to another one, leaving his arms stretched forward and his forehead resting on the floor.

He didn't move when they entered. Roberts told the armed man waiting outside to close the door.

"You stay there," she ordered Jack. "Until the security cameras stop functioning, I'm just here to take care of him and you're just here to watch."

"What's going to take out the cameras?"

"The same thing that will take out everything else here." Her answer was suitably vague.

With his face hidden by his arms, it was impossible to see if the Doctor was awake. He had to be unconscious, though, because otherwise he would have reacted to their conversation by now.

Jack became aware that Dr. Roberts had so far only been called when the man was out, and had been gone before he woke up — probably to keep him from accidentally giving her away in his confusion. He didn't know she was even here.

Once he woke up and recognized her, Jack would have the final proof that she wasn't lying to him.

_If_ he even recognized her, a persistent part of his mind whispered. After all, forty years had passed since he'd last seen her.

The medic set down the large case with her medical supplies and knelt beside the Time Lord. She opened his shackles and carefully rolled him onto his side. Jack was surprised, shocked even, to see him awake after all. Tears were shimmering in his eyes as he looked up at the old woman now cradling his head in her lap.

"Martha," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

-

They had almost an hour before they could leave (or attempt to). Enough time for the Doctor and his friend to do some talking. Jack did his best not to feel left out.

"So, it's Martha Roberts then," he said after he had helped her get the Time Lord onto the narrow bunk.

"Yes," She nodded, and when she noted the Doctor's questioning look, she added, "I was married."

She didn't offer any further information and the Doctor didn't ask.

He'd been dressed in clean clothes. At Martha's request Jack turned away while she quickly checked him over and treated to his injuries. It was blatantly obvious already that she had been right: he wouldn't be able to walk on his own.

Staring at the wall, Jack heard her tell the Doctor her story with little more detail than the version she'd told him.

"You knew they were going to get you," she finally said, after a long pause. "I knew the moment I found your psychic paper and the other thing in my pocket."

"Yes. I'm sorry." The Doctor's voice was even quieter than before. The conversation was enough to exhaust him and Jack began to worry he wouldn't be able to move at all when the time came. "They could track me, and without the TARDIS, there was no escape. No point in keeping that stuff, they would have taken it from me right away."

"That's why you sent me the other way." There was accusation in her voice.

"They wanted me, so I knew if they got me first they'd probably ignore your existence — no offence. But if they had caught you along with me, they wouldn't have let you go."

Dr. Roberts was done with her work and Jack was allowed to turn around again. The Doctor's clothes were neatly in place — the only change Jack could make out were the bandages around his hands and the fact that the bruised cuts on his face had been cleaned.

"I had hoped you'd find the TARDIS before Torchwood could collect it. There would have been an emergency program…"

"But I didn't," Martha cut off her friend. "And I wouldn't have wanted to leave. They had you, and I wasn't going to leave you behind."

"And you didn't," the Doctor whispered, lifting one thin hand to cup her face. "I'm so sorry. You wasted your life looking for me. All those years trying to get here…"

"…weren't wasted," Martha finished his sentence. "I didn't live in the time I belonged in. I didn't have the life I was supposed to have, but I did have a life. You're acting like I was robbed of thirty-eight years, but I've lived every single one. I've seen things I wouldn't know about if I'd never met you. And all this time I've had a goal. Now I have reached it. How can you say my life was wasted?"

"If that goal you're talking about is getting the Doctor out of here, I wouldn't say you reached it before we see the sky." Jack decided it was time for them to remember his presence. "And I don't mean lying on our backs while our blood is soaking the earth. Don't you think it's time to fill us in on your plan?"

"Right." Dr. Roberts sat on the bunk, her back against the wall. Somehow she seemed younger now she had dropped her act, even though Jack could tell from her story that she was older than she looked. Definitely hot for her age, but now was not the time for thoughts like that.

"During my stay here I have placed a number of transmitters around the complex. The security systems won't detect them." She glanced at her watch. "In about five minutes friends outside will send a signal that kills every system. Once the signal comes through, it'll all have to happen very fast. First of all we'll have to deactivate the chip. That will hurt."

"I can take it." The Doctor sounded confident for someone who couldn't stand on his own.

"What chip?" Jack asked.

Martha explained it to him: "There's a chip implanted in his neck that responds to the signal of a transmitter nearby. Once the signal doesn't reach it anymore, like when he manages to escape from the building, the chip knocks him out cold."

"Stopped me from getting away twice." The Doctor gave them a slightly embarrassed smile.

"We need to time it perfectly," Martha told Jack. "The chip needs to be taken out before the signal it responds to is cut off by our attack, but so shortly before that even if it is spotted on the CCTV, they don't have time to react anymore."

"If the systems are killed all the doors will lock," Jack pointed out. "And what about the armed guards out there? I can't imagine they'll just let us walk out."

He looked at his companions: An old woman and a weak and injured alien. His optimism wavered.

"We've actually considered that, thank you," Martha replied, slightly irritated, before she made Jack help the Doctor to kneel so she could access his neck. Half a minute to go.

"Is that a sonic screwdriver?" Jack's eyes widened when he saw the tool the medic pulled from her case.

"The Doctor's." She nodded. "He gave it to me just before he was taken. It's surprising just how much you can get through the security controls by claiming it's a medical tool. Brace yourself." The last words were spoken to the Doctor.

About ten seconds before the lights went out, Martha pressed the tool against the Doctor's neck and activated it. He didn't scream, but his body jerked violently before it fell forward and for a moment he stopped breathing.

Jack caught him before his head hit the floor.

A strong flashlight provided illumination in the darkness that followed.

"This is the first place they'll send their soldiers in the case of a total power failure," Jack said even as he gently stroked the shaking Doctor's hair. He resisted the urge to whisper — the darkness didn't make the room any less soundproof.

"Don't worry." The way Martha said those words they sounded like an order. She took another thing out of her case, small and circular.

"Is that a Doolan Mind Buster?" the Doctor gasped breathlessly. "Martha Jones, you are brilliant!"

"I know," she replied with a smile. "A present of Torchwood Three. Well, not really. Now, nobody moves." She pressed the button and a red wave of energy spread through the building unhindered by walls. Knocking down everyone further than two metres away from the source, letting them sleep for an hour without causing any lasting damage.

They still had to worry. Ten minutes at best before the reinforcements showed up, Jack estimated. He helped the Doctor to his feet and supported him while Martha used the sonic screwdriver to open the door. Outside the guard was lying soundly asleep.

The Doctor stopped Jack from taking his gun.

They hurried through the corridors, the Time Lord leaning heavily on Jack. It would have been easier to simply carry him but Jack didn't want to rob him of the pleasure of walking out of his prison on his own.

More unconscious bodies in the corridors. Jack kept expecting them to jump up and shoot them, even the ones who weren't armed.

This early in the morning the main area was nearly deserted. As they reached the lift, the ex-time agent hesitated.

"I don't suppose there's time for me to go up and kill my dear old friend, is there?" he asked grimly. He didn't understand how attraction had turned to hatred so quickly, but right now John Hart was a part of his life he wanted to sever all contact with. Quite ultimately. (Maybe if John was gone he could forget he had ever been a man who'd seen the Doctor only as a ticket home.)

"We won't kill anyone!" the Doctor hissed, and Jack realised that murder was not the way to go here.

"With even Harold Saxon taking an interest in the Doctor, losing him is probably going to have consequences for General Hart anyway," Martha tried to console him.

"Saxon?" The Doctor looked at her, his voice alarmed. "You saw him?"

"Yes, we met in the corridor. Why do you ask?"

The Time Lord didn't answer, but he looked deeply troubled in a way Jack didn't like.

Jack suspected this was not the best time to inform Martha about the politician's true nature.

Naturally the lift didn't work. They had to take the stairs, and now Jack did carry the Doctor in his arms — he was already on the verge of collapse. Just before they reached the large doors leading outside he set him back on his feet and just kept him from falling as they walked out into the early morning sunlight.

-

Outside the building they found a number of people gathering on those spots where passing men and women had fallen to the ground unconscious. The early hour had reduced the number of victims of Martha's mind buster device, and apparently no moving car had been inside its range at the time. The Doctor still had a worried frown on his pale face.

If anyone had seen the wave of energy emerging from the building they'd just walked out of, they didn't think anything of it. The only thing that raised the interest of one or two passers-by was Jack lifting the Doctor off the ground to carry him like a child. They needed to get away quickly now.

"There'll be a car to pick us up a few metres down the road," Martha informed them. Jack hurried after her, the Doctor a paperweight in his arms, until the Time lord suddenly said, "Stop."

They stopped.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Martha asked. "We don't have time. They might be after us already!"

The Doctor was staring unblinkingly down the narrow road they were just about to cross, his head tilted as if listening for something.

"Turn left," he said.

"Why? What's there?" Jack wanted to know.

"Do it!" The alien spoke with such urgency that Jack found himself obeying without protest. "There! Around the corner, between the buildings."

Jack saw nothing but followed the Doctor's instructions until they entered an alley blocked by a large blue thing that looked a bit like a phone box.

"The TARDIS!" Martha exclaimed. "How did she get here? I thought they took her!"

"They did," the Doctor confirmed. "And last year she was taken from them."

"By who?" As if the Doctor had any chance of knowing, thought Jack, not sure what use this large wooden piece of junk would be to them.

"By Saxon," the Doctor said grimly.

Martha stared at him. "_Harold_ Saxon? _Future Prime Minister_ Harold Saxon?"

"Yeah. He's an alien. Not a nice one."

"And he just parked it here for us to find?" Martha sounded sceptical.

"Yes. He knew we were going to escape."

"How could he?" Jack asked.

"Because he saw Martha," the Doctor explained darkly. "If he's been here for months he's seen her and me running around in this time. He knew she was my friend."

"Maybe he didn't recognize me," Martha offered. "I'm not exactly as young as I used to be."

"He recognized you," the Doctor claimed.

"If he's your enemy, why did he let us get away?" Jack wondered aloud. "You think it's a trap?"

"No." The Doctor shook his head. "We're safe with her. I'd know if we weren't."

"Then what is he planning?"

"I don't know." The Time Lord's head fell against Jack's shoulder. He was breathing harder now. "But I have to stop him."

"Right," Jack said sourly. "I think you should leave the stopping of villains to someone else for a while."

"No! It has to be me!" The harshness of the Doctor's voice was a surprise. "I'm the only one who can."

"I think we'll discuss that once we're somewhere less exposed," Martha decided.

Jack asked, "What is this thing anyway?"

"It's the Doctor's ship."

"That?" Jack frowned. "I bet it's all nice and cosy but I doubt it's the right vehicle for someone in his condition. There wouldn't even be enough room to lie down if there weren't three of us." He worried, briefly, about getting left behind.

Martha ignored him. "How did you know she was here?" she asked her friend.

A tired smile graced the Doctor's face that made Jack fall a little bit in love.

"She called for me," he whispered. Then his face fell. "They took my key."

Martha grinned and pulled an utterly normal looking key on a chain out of her pocket.

"You didn't think I'd ever let go of it, did you?"

She unlocked the door and the Doctor let out a chocked little sob as Jack carried him over the threshold, at any moment expecting to bump into a wall.

-

As it turned out the ship was bigger on the inside. The Doctor flicked a few switches on the console in the middle of the first room, causing the column in its centre to move. They were in the vortex now, the Doctor told them. Going nowhere.

The Time Lord seemed reluctant to leave Earth and the evil called Harold Saxon behind but even he had to accept that in his current state, he wouldn't be able to fight anyone. By the time they reached a bed to put him in, he was barely conscious.

Once Jack had laid him down on the soft surface he just rolled to his side, curled up and passed out. Jack thought Martha would use the opportunity for a more thorough check-over but she shook her head when he mentioned it.

"There'll be time for that later. He'd not in immediate danger. I think it's best to just let him rest for a while." She opened her medical case anyway and pulled out a neatly folded, long brown coat to drape it over her sleeping friend.

"There," she murmured. "That's better."

-

Given the strangeness of this place and everything he'd seen and done in the past few days, Jack was surprised how quickly sleep came to him. He'd lain down in a plain little chamber that contained only the bed and a dusty closet and woke up in a room that looked a lot like that hotel room on Vegas Prime in Fornax, where he'd once spent a rather fantastic weekend.

Martha had fallen asleep on the couch in a living room he hadn't seen the first time he came this way. As he looked closer, Jack saw traces of tears on her cheeks. He did his best not to disturb her.

In the maze of corridors the room they had left the Doctor in was surprisingly easy to find. Jack stopped in the open doorway, just watching him for a while.

The Time Lord hadn't moved at all — Jack needed a moment to figure out what had changed in the picture presented to him:

It was as if the man had sunken into the mattress. It was engulfing him, as if trying to absorb him. Jack frowned a little, but he didn't get the impression that anything was wrong. The Doctor looked safe there, cradled in the warmth of this place.

He also appeared to be sleeping peacefully. From the scientists working for Torchwood, Jack had learned that he often had horrible nightmares — it didn't exactly surprise him.

He imagined waking up from a terrible dream to find himself in a reality that offered no relief.

The ex-time agent sighed softly as he wandered over to the Doctor. His steps were slow and so he registered only after a little while that he didn't seem to get any closer.

He looked back: the doorway was still around him. Feeling slightly freaked out, Jack took a few large steps forward and found that he hadn't moved at all.

"I think it's the ship."

Martha was standing behind him suddenly, taking hold of his arm. "The dimensions are a little twisted here. I already tried to get to him. It won't work."

"What do you mean, 'it's the ship'?"

"It's alive. And right now she's keeping us from getting to the Doctor. We can see him so we know he's all right, but this is as close as we get. Don't worry, if anything's wrong she'll let us reach him."

"Why would the ship keep us away?" Jack tried to wrap his mind around the idea of a living time-space-ship that read his mind and manipulated its own internal dimensions.

Martha shrugged.

"I guess she just wants him for herself for a while."

Jack glanced at her. "You're used to this kind of stuff, aren't you?"

She shrugged again. "Life with the Doctor is a bit weird. But you get used to the TARDIS quite quickly." Finally taking her eyes off the sleeping Time Lord, she gave him a little smile. "Thank you. For helping us get out."

"I'm the one who has to thank you." The words left Jack's mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying. It was true, though. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt this all right with himself. Pulling a con had left him feeling self-satisfied, clever and superior to his victims, but there'd always been this little, ignored voice asking him if this really was the person he wanted to be.

"I'm from the fifty-first century," he explained to Martha. "I used to be a time agent, and have lived a pretty exciting life myself. But this is the first time I really feel I've done something _good_." It was hard finding the right words to express himself. "As a child I've had so many dreams, but when I grew up I gave them up one by one. I wanted to be a hero and ended up always helping only myself. I entered the time agency because I wanted to save the universe, but I soon learned that they don't need heroes but self-serving, cold-hearted bastards, and so I just followed the easiest path and betrayed myself in the process. The two of you have given me the chance to discover that I'm not really like that."

Martha's smile turned wistful.

"You just needed someone to believe in," she guessed. "The Doctor is good for that."

She was right. It was very easy to believe in the Doctor. Especially since the Time Lord had been the first person to believe in_ him_.

"This exciting life of yours," Martha changed the topic. "Tell me about it."

-

They ended up in the living room with Jack entertaining his new friend with stories about monkeys lost in time, underwear lost in space, and lovers lost in confusion. Martha suddenly became serious when he mentioned the trouble with running into himself, and how to avoid it.

"I left this time with the Doctor only a few days ago," she told him. "For more than twenty years I had to move very carefully, always trying to recall where I was at the time. There were two of me, and one had no idea what was to come."

"Did you ever consider warning yourself not to go with the Doctor when you met him?" Jack wanted to know.

Martha frowned. "I'm not stupid: I know you can't change your own history like that. And I meant what I said to the Doctor — I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Besides, if it wasn't for me, no one might ever have learned what had happened to him and he'd be a prisoner of Torchwood for another thousand years."

Jack had to admire her ability to see the good side of things. Then, however, her eyes grew sad.

"I missed my family so much. The last time I called my mother was on election day — that's in less than a week," she said quietly. "After that mum will never again hear from me, the normal me. The younger me. If I ever see her again I'll have to explain why I'm older than her now. It'll break her heart. I've already considered to never seeing her again."

"That's stupid," Jack told her, matter-of-factly. She looked at him in surprise.

"Do you really think your mother would be happier if you just disappeared and she never found out what happened to you?" he continued. "Okay, it will be a shock to see you at this age, but at least she'll know you've had a life, somewhere. And she can learn all about it. Usually parents can only speculate how the rest of their children's life will go once they're dead. How many mothers get the chance to know what becomes of their daughters?"

His words made Martha smile again. "You're right. It was a stupid idea to begin with. But before we face my mother the Doctor will have to get stronger. She doesn't like him, and this is not going to help."

Jack looked over at the door leading to the corridor and the Doctor's room.

"Do you think he will be all right?" he asked quietly.

Martha leaned back, her eyes suddenly fixed on a point far in the distance. But her voice was firm.

"Yes," she said. "One day."

-

The Doctor slept through another day. Jack and Martha did some exploring of the ship she hadn't seen in almost forty years, got lost five times and finally got the message when every path they took led back to their bedrooms.

This time Jack slept just as well, but he dreamt of his family's house on Boeshane Peninsula and when he woke up his room looked like the room he had shared with his little brother during the first years of his life. (Later he'd had the room to himself.) Jack left quickly, not without kicking the doorframe as he walked out.

This time it was not the living room he found first but the kitchen. Jack helped himself with a large portion of pancakes, roasted bacon, eggs and a lot of coffee. When he was done he left the kitchen and found himself in the control room five steps later.

The Doctor was sitting on the worn couch in front of the six-sided console. He'd exchanged the light grey clothes he'd worn at Torchwood for a dark blue suit that didn't go along with the black turtleneck he was wearing beneath. The brown coat was thrown over the back of the couch.

When he noticed Jack's presence, the Time Lord grinned at him. He looked well rested, if not particularly healthy.

"Jack!" he greeted him happily. "Do you still want to go home? I need to know the exact year."

His words took the former conman by surprise. In fact, they shocked him so much he needed a few seconds before he could think of an answer.

"Home is overrated," he said.

The Doctor looked puzzled. "Really? I love being home!" He stroked the console fondly and Jack thought he was very strange and fell in love a little more.

"I don't really have anywhere I belong," Jack admitted. "My wish to leave was more of an 'anywhere but here' kind."

"And I always thought that century was a particularly lovely one." The Doctor looked at Martha, who, as Jack now saw, was standing on the other side of the console. "Don't you think?"

"It's lovely," Martha agreed. "Although I'd like to see another one for a change."

"The fifty-first it is, then?"

"If we could postpone that for a bit?" Jack tried rather hard not to sound pleading. "It's not that much fun, compared to some others."

"Are you sure?" The Doctor was suddenly very serious. "It's your only chance — the next trip goes straight back to 2007. I've got work to do."

"Ah, that Saxon business," Jack recalled. "I can help you."

The Doctor smiled, but it looked a little sad.

"That's a generous offer, but I don't think it's a good idea. The Master is very dangerous. You wouldn't be safe."

"All the more reason to stay with you," Martha replied. "After I waited so long to see you again I won't let you out of my sight so soon."

"And I don't have anything better to do." Jack had to admit his reason didn't sound as good as Martha's, but it was still better than kneeling in front of the Time Lord and begging him to let him stay.

There was something about the Doctor and Jack couldn't tell exactly what it was, only that he didn't want to lose it.

Ever.

For a moment the Time Lord was very, very still. Then, suddenly, he beamed.

"All right!" he said, flicking a switch on the console and the next second Jack was lying on the floor while the ship shook and twisted around him. Something exploded in a rain of sparks.

"Oh, no, no, that isn't good!" he heard the Doctor cry. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

-

When the shaking stopped the Doctor was clinging to the back of the couch, looking unhappy but adorable. At least he hadn't fallen to the ground — Jack would have hated for him to get hurt any worse, and he looked so fragile in the suit that was too large.

Like Jack, Martha hadn't been so lucky. She was sitting on the floor, her greying hair in disarray. Jack offered a hand to help her up and she took it gladly.

"What happened?"

"Something's interfered with the coordinates. As if there were two orders at conflict in the TARDIS' programming." The Doctor's face was dark. "It must have been the Master. He wanted us to get here."

"But what for?" Martha asked. "Where are we? Still on Earth?"

"Uh, no," the Doctor confessed, looking at his screen. "We're actually quite far away from Earth. Very, very far away. Ah… make that a hundred trillion years away from Earth." He turned the screen around so the two humans could see a bunch of alien symbols that didn't make any sense to them. "We're at the end of the universe," he added helpfully.

"End of the universe?" asked Jack. "You mean, the stars burning out, galaxies collapsing, and there's nothing there to take their place? The end of everything?" He whistled between his teeth. "I've never been this far in the future."

"No, me neither," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "It's not a place a Time Lord would usually visit."

"What did that Master guy send us here for?" Martha asked, sounding slightly nervous.

The Doctor stared at nothing for a second, his face hard. Then he said, "Only one way to find out!" He grabbed his coat and jogged over to the door leading outside with a lightness that seemed to mock his weakened state. When he looked back to his companions, he sported a grin Jack was beginning to learn not to trust.

"Aren't you coming?" the Time Lord called. "End of the universe. Alons-y!"

- end

July 27, 2008


End file.
